


Exit Wounds

by IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow



Category: The X-Files, The X-Files: I Want To Believe (2008)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Search for William, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:33:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1261459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow/pseuds/IfMulderCouldSeeMeNow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set directly after IWTB. Mulder has just begun to re-establish himself after exoneration when he notices that Scully is having nightmares, and not sleeping. What's going on with her and will they ever be able to heal the wounds that losing William left, especially when another force is intervening. Multichapter, WIP</p><p>Story titles Inspired by 'Exit Wounds' by The Script</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Entry Point

**Residence of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully**

**March 21 st, 2008**

**2:30am**

 

Her breath came out ragged as she gasped. Her eyes widened in the darkness of the room, as she quickly tried to slow her breathing. She lifted up the cover carefully and slid her legs over the side of the bed retrieving her slippers and making her way to the bathroom.

The water hit her face relentlessly, snapping her out of her dream-induced fog. Drying her face with a washcloth she examined her face in the mirror. Really, she looked dreadful. She hadn’t had a full-night’s sleep in days. She had to remind herself that it was just a dream- it couldn’t be anything else. Creeping back to the bed, she shifted under the covers, her body turned away from him.

“You alright, Scully?” He asked, his voice gruff from sleep.

“I’m fine.” She responded hating that for a brief moment there was a shake in her voice. He would know now. Suddenly he was wide awake.

“You had the dream again, didn’t you?” She nodded in response and found his arms quickly around her body, pulling her closer to him. He laid behind her, folded her in his arms. He spoke softly into her hair “Can you tell me about it tonight?”

“It was about hi- _William_. He was asking-.”  Her brow knotted and she was happy that their room was shrouded in darkness. She knew he could feel her body tense, but she would hold onto the tread of dignity she had left. She wouldn’t cry over a dream, it was downright childish.  “He was asking me why I gave him up and-and I couldn’t tell him.” A sob almost escaped her throat but she held it at bay. “He was crying for me and I couldn’t make him stop.” Finally the tears started slipping silently from her eyes as her shoulders shook slightly. He tightened his grasp around her, bringing his hand to interlock with hers. “I miss him so much, Mulder.”

“I miss him too.” He held her until she finally succumbed to sleep. Her breathing finally lost its shake and he released his hold. In fact, she hadn’t woke him up at all…William had. As he unraveled from her he looked into the darkness of what would be their ceiling. His mind was made up. He had to find him.

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Residence of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully**

**March 21 st  2008**

**1:00pm**

 

“Mulder, we got mail.” She called from their kitchen, pulling her overcoat off and lying the groceries on the table. She had to be at the hospital in a few hours…the dreaded nightshift. Honestly she was feeling exhausted, but she couldn’t call out. Not when young Christian was making so much improvement. She hadn’t had a full night of sleep in weeks, but having Mulder next to her seemed to ease the dreams a little most of the times. Unfortunately last night she was plagued, but mail certainly made the day better. 6 years with no mail was a long time and now that he was no longer considered a fugitive, the letters had begun to arrive. She had enjoyed getting mail ever since she was little and she quickly placed the few letters on the table, distracted by the manila folder. Fingering the thick envelope in her fingers, she took off her shoes and began to pad to her partner’s office. Turning it over, she noticed the tell-tale sign of the FBI on the envelope. Her eyebrow arched slightly. FBI mail wouldn’t be alarming, considering that Mulder had begun to consult occasionally. Still, it was odd to receive mail.  She pulled the sheets from the envelope.

 Ah, it made sense. It was Mulder’s official exoneration paperwork. It was about time, to be honest.   He turned around in his desk chair as she begun to open it. Just as her eyes scanned over the top of the letter he turned around in his chair.

“What’d we get this time Scully, pizza fliers?” His face suddenly dropped as he noticed the manila envelope.  ‘Department of Records?’ her voice came out in a questioning whisper as her head tilted to the side. It was too late now. Scanning over the prestige paper of the records department she found what she was looking for.

William Fox Mulder: No Records Found

“How long, Mulder?” She asked softly, but he could hear the anger in her voice. He knew that now was not the time to play coy, but he did anyway, hoping it would help smooth matters over.

“How long what, Scully?” He said, rising from the chair and over her small frame. She pushed the papers into his chest and craned her neck upward to look him in the eyes.

“How long were you going to keep this hidden from me? You made this decision-and he- You never even asked me what I thought!”  She shouted, her voice shrill. He knew he should explain to her, make her see that he had taken precautions and was only trying to make them happy. He knew she had just as much to miss as he did- that she was hurting too, was constantly worried for the safety of their son. He knew all these things and yet he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out of his mouth.

“That’s right, you make all of the decisions, don’t you?” He said sarcastically, angry at her for yelling at him. Her eyes widened and shook in their sockets for a brief moment before they became narrow and hard. He instantly regretted his words, and reached for her arm as she turned, catching her bicep firmly: “Scully, I didn’t-”

            “I have to get to work.” She said coldly, shaking her arm from his grasp and leaving his office.

 

**Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital**

**2:17pm**

 

          She reached the hospital in remarkable speed, which could be attributed more to her speeding instead of the lack of traffic. She expected to have the joy of opening one of those tickets from the state soon enough. Her heels clicked through the pristine floors of the office and she ignored the stares from the people who knew her shift didn’t start for another 3 hours. It was easy, just like from her days in the FBI. The title of ‘Ice Queen’ seemed to follow her here as well, and that was fine; it was better they think of her as cold than as weak. Reaching the solace of her office, she turned quickly and locked the door. She wanted to find the person who invented locks, and blinds for that matter, and kiss them. 1 message blinked on the office answering machine and while her brain told her not to push it, she did anyway.

            “Listen Scully, I-…” The voice began sounding obviously pained. She moved fast as lighting, swiping at the phone which fell to the floor, scattering the pens and pencils over her desk. “I just wanted to say that I didn’t mean it.” When the phone didn’t stop the message, she crossed the room to continue her attack. Picking the offending object up, the message continued: “I love you.”Her arm cocked back, ready to chuck the phone to the other side of the earth “I’m sorry, I just miss him.” The message stopped and the phone dropped from her grasp, making a clattering noise that she didn’t hear. She slid to the ground, burying her head in her hands.

            “No, Mulder…I’m sorry…I’m so sorry.” She spoke quietly through strangled sobs as her shoulders shook.

            After minutes that seemed like hours, she glanced at the clock, realizing there was still about 2 hours before her shift began. She might as well start now; get her mind off of everything.  She wiped her eyes and made her way to the locker room, ignoring the headache pressing against her temples.

            ‘How childish…you nearly destroyed your office. How old are you?’ Her conscious spoke, reprimanding her. ‘You knew the consequences of giving him up, just suck it up. He’s better off with a mother, a real one. Did you really think Mulder would forgive you so easily?’  

           

 

* * *

 

**Residence of Fox Mulder and Dana Scully**

**March 22 nd  2008**

**2:00pm**

 

It had been a month and a half since he officially came out of hiding and he had found nothing. When Skinner had said that Scully made sure there were no records to track William he wasn’t lying. There was literally nothing on his son. Had Scully ever looked herself? He briefly thought of the lone gunman, knowing that they would find something, somewhere. A speck, a hair- they would find him that much he knew for sure. He reached up to run his hand through his hair and cringed. His head still stung from the nearly healed gash, just a scratch now. He wasn’t as young as he used to be, and neither was she. He wished he could give her the life she deserved; One with PTA meetings and Halloween costumes; PP & J and kissing boo boos. A life with Chocolate Chip Pancakes, specially made on Saturdays and ‘you can play outside with Dad after you finish your homework.’ ‘Dad.’ Not Mulder, not Fox, not Spooky: Dad. And she’d be Mom, iron-fisted but kind mom who would snap at him in an instant for breaking curfew while he asked him about the girl he went to go see. Mulder laughed sardonically. He had hoped the dreams had finally stopped for her but he knew he was just believing the lie; she’d always been good at hiding her feelings, and she was always one to adapt. She’d just gotten better at hiding her restlessness, and it couldn’t help that they rarely saw each other since their vacation immediately after Christian’s first surgery. She was writing journal articles and consulting on cases, while taking care of her young patient while he was immersed in the end of the Universe and a possible book Scully encouraged him to write. He suspected she’d been sleeping less and less and He knew that they had in fact been keeping her from a full-night’s rest for a while now; it showed in her joints and the bags under her eyes. She was running herself ragged; trying to save every child she came across and it was killing her. He threaded his fingers together, remembering the brief apology-call he’d telephoned earlier. She didn’t need that from him; she didn’t deserve it. She was working a double shift today and in fact, he checked his watch, she would be getting off in roughly 2 hours. Maybe he could drop-in? Take a cab and drive her home after taking her out to dinner. After all, she’d been at the hospital for nearly 24 hours. She’d acquired the weekend off after his insistence, so he had plenty of time to make it up to her. 

* * *

 

**Our Lady Of Sorrows Hospital**

**March 22 nd  2008**

**3:00pm**

 

“Dr. Scully, are you alright?” The young resident asked as Dana Scully pulled on her lab coat, after sleeping roughly 2 hours on her desk. She’d worked right through the day and night, drowning out any thought of Mulder and her attack on her office. She just had to get through these last few hours and then she would go home and face Mulder; apologize for overreacting. Once, she’d prided herself on stoicism and now it seemed she had a meltdown at the drop of a hat. Drawn out of her trance her eyes found the bright girl, Amanda if her memory served her right.  She felt her lips tug to a slight smile. The girl really was sweet as pie and whip smart at that.

            “Fine, Amanda. Thanks for asking," She said, despite the splitting headache and buzzing sound in her head.

            _‘I want to come home._ ’ A small voice said, forcing Scully to spin on her heels.

            “What?” She asked the young student desperately, her eyes searching Amanda’s. A blush rose on Amanda’s cheeks and she timidly responded, fearing Scully’s response.

            “I was just saying that I can’t wait to go home.” Scully looked down dejectedly before responding.

            “Oh… Me either.”

 

* * *

 

            Closing the door to the locker room she began to walk through the long corridor, the lights suddenly terribly bright, like an interrogation room.

            _‘Why did you give me up,’_ the little boy’s voice questioned, echoing in her ears.

            She stopped abruptly in the empty hallway, bracing herself against the wall. The fatigue was finally catching up. She wasn’t as young as she used to be…neither was he. She wished she could give him what he wanted: A child to take to baseball games, to teach basketball to. A tiny mitt to accompany his larger one and baseballs covered in dirt and mud; camping and tree houses, star-gazing and the ‘mommy doesn’t have cooties’ talk. Her eyes closed, trying to send her focus from the splitting headache. ‘Mommy’ to his ‘Daddy.’  She reached into her pocket for the bottle of aleve only to feel newsprint under her fingers. She slipped the paper out and unfolded it, her head still pounding. 

There, her son stared back at her through newsprint, Mulder’s nose evident in the black and white picture. Her son. Her son. Who left this for her? Why? Her eyes shifted from the picture of the smiling boy with a missing tooth and up to the news heading and she felt bile immediately rise.

‘7 year old Boy killed 6 months after parent’s death. Police suspect foul play.’

 The room was spinning. The humming noise was reverberating through her skull.

_'What did I do wrong, Mommy?'_

Her chest was heaving and yet she couldn’t seem to fill her lungs with air. She stumbled to the nearby wall in an attempt to hold herself up. She had to get to her office, to the phone and call Mulder. Mulder. Mulder. Mulder.  Her tears blurred her vision and her head burned beyond comprehension.

_'They hurt me, Mommy'_

Her eyes rolled back into her head and her body began to shake. She dropped to the unforgiving white tiles with a sickening crash, her body convulsing as she gripped the newsprint tightly in her hand.

 “Dr. Scully!”


	2. Falling Through The Doors of The Emergency Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mulder rushes to the hospital to aid a sickly Scully, unaware of what he'll find when he gets there. Will they be able to face this together?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooooo sorry for this terribly late update. Live has been weird lately. Anway, please review and tell me what you think.

The shrill sound of the phone broke him from his reverie.

“Is this a Mr. Mulder?” The voice of a young woman quickly questioned.

“The one and only,” he replied smugly, quite happy with his wit.

“Um, could you please come to the hospital,” the young woman called and Mulder felt his blood run cold. “ Dr. Scully’s been admitted.”

“I’m on my way now.” He got out of his trembling lips before dropping the phone in its holder and rushing out the door. He knew he shouldn’t have pressured her earlier this morning. She was furious when she left. He should have told her before that he was looking for their son. Shouldn’t have yelled; blamed her.

 Skidding to a stop in front of the nurse’s desk, Mulder looked around briefly before asking in a hurried voice

 “Dr. Dana Scully. Where is she?” When the nurses were silently gaping at him, he furrowed his brows and lowered his voice, speaking gently to them with a nervous smile: “I’m her husband, Mulder, could you please tell me where Dr. Scully is, I’m very worried about her?”

  “308” The blonde nurse answered, flushed. Apparently Scully was right, sometimes you did attract more bees with honey. He seemed to be a little out of practice interacting with people, but at least he still had it.

“Please. Really, I’m fine.” He heard her voice from outside the door. “My house isn’t far from here; I’ll make it back fine.” He cringed at the thought of her driving over 1 ½ hours back, 2 ½ in this traffic, home after being admitted to the hospital. What if he was still a fugitive? Who would come for her? Would she have even told him? He thought of all the times he wasn’t there, of all the times she had to do everything on her own and he hated himself. He wouldn’t let her down again. “I’ve already signed the release papers, Amanda. I’m fine.” The shake in her voice betrayed her stoic nature. Stepping silently into the room he noticed her eyes snapped to him, expanding to their limits. “Mulder” she gasped, nearly dropping  her coat and workbag, voice filled with surprise, as if she was shocked that he would come to her aid

   “Sorry Dr. Scully,” Amanda chimed in, wringing her hands together so tightly Mulder wondered if water would fall from them. Something serious had to be wrong for this woman to be so nervous. She looked young, and Mulder wondered if the title of ‘Ice Queen’ had followed Scully to the hospital as well. “After you stabilized you kept mumbling ‘Mulder’ and ‘William.’ When I checked your phone, Mulder was the only saved number.”

  “You did the right thing to call me.” Mulder’s deep voice smoothly spoke as he thanked the girl. Amanda hurridly slid out of the room with a nod, closing the door behind her. As soon as it closed, Mulder spoke up: “You weren’t going to call me?”

While he was worried terribly about her, he couldn’t stop the fury in his words. She was so ready to put herself into danger. And for what? They were supposed to be there for each other. A team. Her head dropped and he heard her mumble.

  “I-we need to get out of here, Mulder.” He stood confused as she moved to grab the things Amanda had brought her. They needed to move. Now. She couldn’t bear to be here any longer, couldn’t deal with any of this.

Her release papers were signed and she was on forced leave from the hospital, per Father Ybarra’s request. Couldn’t have a surgeon with an unexplained seizure, could you? She promised to see a neurologist even though she knew they wouldn’t find anything-after all of her brain scans came up clean she knew it was _them._ They had to move. She wouldn’t let them take him again. She rushed past Mulder and reached for the door when his strong hand grabbed her forearm, holding her in place.

 “Scully, what’s wrong?” She shook from his grasp and quickly walked down the hall, his footfalls hot on her trail. “Scully.” Her head was hot and her body was burning. As she rushed through the automatic doors, the cool air hit her skin harshly, causing goosflesh to rise up her arms. The wind blew into her face and her body became rigid. She dropped her coat with a gasp when the voice spoke to her, pleading.

            ‘ _Mommy, please.’_

It wasn’t her imagination before. She was going crazy. She needed to get out of the hospital before they locked her up. The coat lay forgotten on the pavement as she rushed into the large parking lot, the late-march snowfall crunching at her stumbling feet. It wasn’t safe for either of them. He needed to get home. They would find a new home, away from the darkness. She thought briefly of what they would pack, of what would be left behind. They built a home…no, they were just things. Home was where Mulder was. The world seemed to be crumbling under her feet as she rushed, the darkness forced its way through.

            ‘ _Save Me’_

 She located his car crudely parked in the lot, dropping her bag in an attempt to get the door open. Her head hurt so badly.  She could feel her brain frying again, but it was softer, as if the person hadn’t previously tried to hurt her, and now he was just trying to communicate. It burnt so badly, though. Her legs were unsteady and shook as she yanked at the door. Finally he was behind her, holding the coat that she haphazardly left behind and crouched on the ground picking up the scattered objects from her purse.

“We’re not safe here, Mulder. You have to go somewhere safe, no matter what happens to me.” She opened the car door and attempted to get inside when his arm caught her.

“We’re not going anywhere until you explain this to me, Scully. What’s happening to you?”

“I-I let him die,” she whispered, looking down at the ground. It tasted like acid on her lips and she wanted it to burn. Wanted to feel the pain; she deserved it.

 He could question her later about what happened in the hospital, and boy did he have his questions. For now, he needed to get her out of this parking lot, away from _their_ eyes. Did Christian not make it through his last treatment? He could swear the boy was doing excellent from Scully’s last report. Why did she put herself through this- needing to be admitted in the hospital after her patient died?  She needed stability and he knew that after all these years, he had to be the one to be there for her. He needed to tether her to the ground before he lost her forever.

  “I-I’m sorry Mulder.” Another restrained whisper. _Jesus,_ was she apologizing from earlier? He put his fingers under her chin and tipped her head up so she was looking at him. Her eyes were red-rimmed and flooded with tears she wouldn’t let herself shed.

“I’m sorry too, Scully. I-I shouldn’t have said those things.”

 “I- I thought I was doing what was best for him.” Mulder’s breath caught in his chest. Her eyes searched his for an answer. Of all the things he could have ever said to her why did he have to say that? She sucked in breath as she attempted to settle her shaking voice. “I gave up our miracle.” He leaned in, winding his arms around her. Suddenly he was taken back 6 years, when he held her as she sobbed over their miracle- their son. It should have never come to that. If he could have just been there for her, protected them-he would find him. “And now, now we can’t ever get him back.”           

            _‘They’re gonna get me again.’_

 She aggressively pushed away from him now, the buzzing in her head nearly overwhelming her body. Her chest was heaving and her eyes were searching around the enclosed lot as her body pressed against the cool metal of their car. He stood away from her, hesitant to step forward. Her once agile but now trembling fingers reached into the lab coat and pulled out the newspaper to hand him. His eyes searched hers in confusion, looking for an answer. Why were her eyes losing focus? What happened to her in the hospital.When she motioned to move back to him her whole body wobbled and her knees gave out. His arms were bracing her instantly, her head pressed firmly against his chest as she moved her tiny feet, trying to stand again. What was happening to her?

“Let’s get out of here, Scully. It’ll be alright.”

He opened the door and slid her into the car, noticing that she shaking her head ‘no’ and holding both sides of it tightly, as if she was trying to relieve pressure. Silent tears slid down her cheeks as she leaned forward, her hair partially covering her face, looking down at a newspaper clipping. He sped away from the lot, remembering her request to find somewhere safe. He could do that. Of all the things he couldn’t do, he could get her somewhere safe. He needed to protect her.  She was having a mental breakdown. His Scully was breaking and he didn’t know what to do about it. So, he did the only thing he could do. He had to tell her. She had to know, once and for all. This was about William, and she needed to know it wasn’t her fault. He should have told her all those years ago, but he didn’t and she was broken.

“I don’t blame you.” He took a deep breath and clenched his hands tighter on the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.“But I will find him”

 She couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. She couldn’t listen to his voice, his _sweet_ voice, that was trying to soothe and comfort her. To tell her that everything would be alright. It wouldn’t and she didn’t think she could bare it. Mulder sped onto the highway ramp, not that she would notice. He trusted them the most and he could get Scully there quickly.  They said that it was safe to visit now, he just needed to be careful. Safe. Well Scully needed to be safe, so he was going to take her there.

She wouldn’t make it through this tragedy. He was gone. There was no going back. There was no silver lining, no ‘maybe he’s better offs’ to say. No Halloween costumes or first-date jitters. No curveball lessons from Mulder or cupcakes for the PTA. Tombstone. With her son’s name, only he no longer was her son. He belonged to someone else. She had no claim, no right to even take flowers to the grave-sight of the child she both brought into the world and killed. And now they were somehow haunting her.  Mulder was wrong when he said the dead were not lost to them. They were lost in every possible way a person could be lost and they’d never have him back. _Her son. Her son. Their child._

His eyes spotted the Arlington road sign, and he made the quick exit. They weren’t far now.He swallowed, knowing that he needed to say something else, needed to give her hope. So much had been taken from her.

“We will get him back, Scully.” Her head snapped up at that comment and he glanced to the side to look at her. Her eyes were wide and grief stricken, shaking. There was something she wasn’t telling him. Hell, he didn’t even know why she was admitted to the hospital in the first place

The newspaper crinkled in her tight fist, as her eyes widened and she realized she couldn’t do this. Could. Not. Sitting in the car, She began hyperventilating, bracing herself with her splayed hands on the dashboard. Mulder continued to drive, his hands shaking on the wheel. He’d never seen her like this, and he didn’t know how to help. He couldn’t lose her.  

The revelation of losing him, truly losing her son hit her and she could no longer fill her lungs properly. She had to tell him.

“He’s dead, Mulder.”

“Scully? Who, Scully?”

 “Our Son.”

His feet came down heavy on the breaks, the seatbelts snapping back in protest to protect the two drivers. His eyes violently shook as he violently jerked  the car to the side of their destination before addressing her. This wasn’t real. It wasn’t. This wasn’t happening. She was wrong. He wouldn’t believe. She handed him the crumpled newspaper and he looked down, seeing the headline:

‘7 year old Boy killed 6 months after parent’s death. Police suspect foul play.’

That could be anyone. Scully had jumped to conclusions. This was just some random boy. Not their son. It wasn’t. Someone was playing a cruel trick on her. His eyes drifted directly below the heading and fell on a picture of the young child that had the ‘Fox Mulder’ nose. The one that got him called ‘The Snooping Fox’ in school. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he sobbed, rubbing his thumbs over the black and white picture of the boy with Scully’s smile staring back at him. This was their son.

 _‘They’re right outside the door’_ the voice cried in her head, now louder than ever.

Screaming erupted in her head, reverberating through her skull and she grabbed at both sides. The boy was screaming and crying and she couldn’t make it stop, couldn’t hear anything besides the petrified screams. He reached across the car and grabbed her shoulders when Scully began screaming, high-pitched wails echoing through the car and out into the deserted cemetery.

“Scully!! Scully!!”

The screaming stopped, and she relaxed, looking at him through pained and confused eyes. What wasn’t she telling him? What was happening to her?

“Mul-”

Her eyes rolled back into her head and she became slack in his arms.

Three men emerged from a tomb and ran to the car. Mulder held Scully in his arms as they lead him underground. Where she'd be safe.

* * *

 

 Loud wails echoed in her head, waking her from her sleep. She quickly realized her baby was crying, his little voice aching for her. “Willi,” she said out of breath, flipping the comforter off her silk pajama-clad body and hopping out of the bed without a second thought. She navigated the small apartment with ease, pushing the door to his room open she paused, shocked. Instead of her BabiesRus crib stood one that was clearly made by skilled hands, a skillfully crafted buffalo mobile shaking erratically over the bed. Where was the rocking chair she nursed him in with the afghan her mother made?

She stood at the doorjamb for a moment, frozen, before seeing the reddened face of her baby boy, wearing his flying-saucer pajamas. Immediately, she crossed the room, the foreign wooden floor hard under her toes, and picked up her son, his smooth skin hot to the touch in her arms.

“My baby. My baby boy,” her voice shook as she hugged him close and soothed his shaking body. The baby monitor echoed with the sound of a small boy, the voice she continuously heard in her recent dreams and reality:

            ‘ _Mommy, they got me.’_

She looked around the room, clutching the baby closer to her chest, as if he would float off like a balloon. They wouldn’t take her son, not again, never again. She would call Mulder and they would sort this out. They would be fine. She had her son back. She refused to acknowledge that years had passed and he should be far from a baby now. She refused to acknowledge the newpaper clipping she read, speaking of her son’s death. He wasn’t dead, he was in her arms. They could be happy.

            ‘ _Mommy, I’m afraid. It’s dark in here.’_

She listened closer and realized that there were two echoes in the room. One was from the baby monitor, meaning the true voice speaking into the device like a walkie-talkie was close by. She crossed the large room and stood in front of the closet door, holding her son to her chest. She placed the baby monitor on the nearby changing table.

            ‘ _Please save me.’_

Maneuvering her now cooing son who was twisting his hands in her extremely long locks with wonder and shoving the fistfuls in his mouth, she reached for the knob of the closet door, opening it slowly and taking a step back. Staring back at her were Mulder’s hazel eyes, red from crying, tear tracks stained down his tiny face and round cheeks.

 _‘ Why did you give me away, Mommy?’_ The boy in the closet asked, the sound echoing in the baby monitor, the voice stabbing her like a thousand swords.

“I-I” The door sucked out of her hand as if a gust of wind was pulling it away and slammed loud, causing the baby in her arms to cry. “Shh,Shh,” she said, bouncing the baby in her arms and fighting back her own tears, smoothing his small patch of strawberry blonde baby hair. That wasn’t her son in the closet; It was a cruel trick. She was holding her baby. Maybe she’d been transported back in time. Mulder wouldn’t hate her and their son wouldn’t be _dead_ and she wouldn’t feel _dead_ or wish she were. She wasn’t Dr. Scully, or Ice-Queen. She wasn’t Dana Katherine, or Scully, but a _mother._ She wouldn’t ruin it this time. A second chance. She wanted to believe. She had to keep her son safe. Soon, Mulder would come and they could be a family again. “s’ok, Willi, Momma’s here.” The baby stopped wailing and looked up at his mother, eyes glistening in the light. She smiled at her son, tears slipping over her lids and down her face, and his toothless, gummy mouth smiled back at her, his lips beginning to babble.

“Momma’s got you. I’ll protect you.”

The baby boy dissolved into sand in her arms, the hazel eyes staring up at her now muddled brown grains. Her arms shook violently as it slipped through her fingers and onto the wooden floor, the granules etching their way into the cracks in the floorboard. She fell to the ground and clutched at the pile that was her son, sand moving through her fingers as each fistful dug in the pile, shouting as fat droplets fell from her eyes. “William!” Her voice cracked “Give me back my baby, please.”

            ‘ _I can’t feel you, Mommy. Where are you?’_ The boy from the closet cried, the sound echoed in the baby monitor.

“William!” She screamed, pushing herself from the floor and running to the closet door. “William!” She twisted the knob every way erratically, moving back and forth with both hands Pulling back at the door in  jagged motions with her whole body in an attempt to get it open. “GIVE HIM BACK,” she banged on the door with both hands, her fists pounding, striking with all of her force each time, the door unyielding. Her hands red and sore, her voice raw as the baby monitor echoed with her son’s pleas.

 “PLEASE.”

* * *

 

“Records show a death certificate for a William Van de Kamp, Mulder.” Mulder paced around the room covering his eyes with his hand. He was too late. He gazed at his partner, his wife, laying silently in the bed, medical equipment attached to her body. He turned and looked at the three men, who heard his lover’s screams and ran from their safety to help. She’d fainted hours ago and already he’d confirmed their son’s death and contacted Skinner, Monica Reyes and John Doggett. Maybe he couldn’t bring his son back, but he could kill the men who took their son from him from _Scully_. He looked around the home they were staying in.  The shelter could fit nearly 40 people comfortably if needed, and Mulder was glad that they had prepared.

“Did you pull the cameras?” Mulder asked. “She had this clipping in her pocket, she couldn’t have found it in the local paper. Someone purposefully left it.” Byers nodded and pulled up the footage on his monitor, divided between the floor Scully worked, her office and their changing quarters. “There!” Mulder shouted, noting the woman slip into the Doctor’s quarters and out quickly. They followed the woman through the building, and watched on the camera as she exited and climbed into the backseat of a black sedan

“License plates are stolen.”

“Dammit” Mulder hollered, slamming his fists on the table. He walked over to Scully’s bedside and watched her sleeping form, her eyes rapidly moving under her lids. She moaned in her sleep and her brow furrowed.

“It doesn’t make sense. Why would they go after him now?” Langly spoke, his long body perched on the chair. “He was just a baby the last time.”

“JESUS! Fucking magnetite,” Mulder shouted, running from Scully’s bedside and over to the computer. “William was in Wyoming.”

“Mountains have magnetite,” Frohike added in, catching exactly what he was saying.

“Spender injected William with magnetite as a baby. Scully, she-she’s been having these dreams about William for a while. I just thought she was missing him, but they were getting worse and worse. I just wanted to think that she was dreaming but what if-”

“The telekinetic powers returned when he was moved because of his parents-adoptive parents death and he was reaching out to Scully.”

“She must have realized.”

“Where was he moved to?” Mulder asked, and Langly began typing furiously. Funny thing was when Mulder was looking they couldn’t find anything on the boy. Once they had a name, though, everything opened at the snap of his fingers. William Van de Kamp. No. William Scully. William Scully-Mulder. William Mulder. He needed to marry Scully, in the real sense. He called her his wife but  that was common-law marriage. It was just a piece of paper, but he should have married her. Should have given Scully a ring and proposed the moment he found out that she was carrying his son. But he hadn’t. And now their son was a Van de Kamp. Scratch that, he was dead, and it was all his fault. Scully would never forgive him. Would she even stay? He couldn’t bear to think otherwise.

“He was moved to – Oh my God, he was moved to Maryland to live with an Aunt,  and her husband.”

He was close. The whole time , over the last few months their son was only hours away and he hadn’t found him. He failed and William paid the price.

“Can we get Monica and John to talk to them?”

“Texting them their address now.” He would find their son’s killer. He would get vengeance. It was the only thing he could ever do for his son. He just hoped that he’d be able to put Scully back together again. The cell phone in his pocket buzzed and Mulder quickly grabbed it

 “Mulder,” his voice cracked as he answered the line.

“The Med Student that called you initially said that Dana had a mild seizure. Her tests showed nothing, which apparently is common in seizure patients, but she had to sign some forms before she left. She’s on a leave of absence per the request of the hospital.” Skinner finished. “I should be there in less than 30 minutes.” Mulder hung up the phone and continued to pace.

“If he was causing the dreams, what’s happening to her now?” Mulder asked to himself, moving across the room and back to Scully. Suddenly, the machines she was on began to beep and Scully began to move in the bed, ripping the wires from her arms and twisting in the sheets,

 

 “PLEASE,” she screamed, thrashing. Mulder rushed over and placed his arms on her shoulders, holding her down with his weight. She beat at his arms and kicked her legs in protest.

“ Give him back! Give me my son!”

“Scully. Scully, calm down,” Mulder begged, his face knotted in agony. She recognized his voice and immediately stopped.

Scully opened her eyes to find Mulder’s hands restraining her body, his eyes petrified, cheeks tear-stained, staring down at her. Her eyes were wild and crazed as she looked into his. Her boy, _their son._ They had him. They had to find him. Mulder removed his hands from her shoulders and pulled her to him, kneeling beside the small bed to hold her in his arms.

“You had another dream.” Her head rested against his shoulder as she began to sob and he joined her, joining her in her mourning. When she pushed back from him, he could finally see her. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed but bright. Her voice shook as she spoke, tears bubbling over her eyes. Mulder’s heard stopped in his chest when he heard words he’d never thought he’d hear again.

 “He’s alive, Mulder.”

He wanted to believe. If he wanted to keep his sanity he had to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is William really alive? What's happened to him? What's happening to Scully?


	3. Still in Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He chased bigfoot and the New Jersey Devil into the woods; chased after Flukemen and creatures suspiciously similar to Nessie. He could believe that his son was alive. Her voice, raspy and pained broke him from his reverie "Mulder, we have to find him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: As always, I don't own the X-files. Sorry for this late update, life got rocky but I'm back on track woot woot! :D Anyway, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, or favorited by story, I really appreciate it and hope to get around to all of you to thank personally eventually :) I hope this chapter appeases you and makes you thirst for more! :) 3

" _You had another dream." Her head rested against his shoulder as she began to sob and he joined her, joining her in her mourning. When she pushed back from him, he could finally see her. Her blue eyes were red-rimmed but bright. Her voice shook as she spoke, tears bubbling over her eyes. Mulder's heard stopped in his chest when he heard words he'd never thought he'd hear again._

" _He's alive, Mulder."_

_He wanted to believe_

* * *

**March 22, 2008**

**Arlington, Virginia**

He blinked several times at her words, wanting to believe her with every fiber of his being. He was the believer, she was the skeptic and yet…and yet. He had a death certificate. He had an obituary and a local school paper article praising William as an excellent boy who will be missed. And yet, they had the 'foul play' newspaper article, and the hazy woman exiting the hospital. He chased bigfoot and the New Jersey Devil into the woods; chased after Flukemen and creatures suspiciously similar to Nessie. He could believe that his son was alive. Her voice, raspy and pained broke him from his reverie

"Mulder, we have to find him…he-he needs help" she stuttered

His hand tightened around hers and he helped her sit up, offered her a straw to sip from. He couldn't say he was surprised at the sheer number of his old allies that had died or gone into hiding; hell he was sitting in a room that technically didn't exist with three men who supposedly died over 6 years ago. The impossible was possible. And if Scully believed, he had to as well.

"We will find him."

* * *

**3 Months Ago**

**Van de Kamp Residence**

William put his things on the desk in the new room. He'd just flew in from Wyoming with his Aunt and Uncle. Now his home was Maryland. Baltimore, Maryland- Home of the Orioles and Ravens as his new hat and t-shirt claimed. When his parents died three months ago, his Aunt and Uncle became his 'Legal Guardians,' at least that's what the paper said that they signed. The nice man, who was a social worker, told William about his mother's brother, and sister-in law, who were from Baltimore and took a plane to come see him. They would say until the beginning of January, and then he would move in with them before school was back in session. That was the plan. It was December now. And here he was.

Before the move, William heard his Aunt and Uncle talking sometimes through the walls of his parents old farmhouse about them staying in Wyoming for four months. It was for 'stability' and 'we don't want to uproot him' and 'My sister is dead, his Mother and Father- He needs time to adjust before the move.'

His Aunt wasn't happy. His Uncle wanted to teach him baseball and 'bouncing around can't be good for a child.' He liked his Uncle. And now he was in Baltimore. So far he liked Baltimore.

* * *

**Present Day**

**March 22, 2008**

**Baltimore, MD**

**6:30 pm**

"The house should be coming up on your left," Monica Reyes spoke, the gps on her phone showing a little arrow to alert them that they were .3 miles away. He nodded and soon found the house, small compared to others in the neighborhood, but presentable.

"This the house, Mon?" Dogget asked, sliding from Monica's jeep. She nodded, something he knew was her saying 'Looks like it,' and they walked together to the front door. He thought for a moment. What was the best way to start this? These were the kid's Aunt and Uncle-in legal technicalities. There was no information how William 'died,' so they would have to ask. This wasn't going to be pretty.

Monica knocked at the oak door. No answer. She knocked again. "Mr. and Mrs. Van de Kamp? We're with the F.B.I." Her eyebrow quirked. That was something he loved about Monica. Say what you will about her Whale noises and mood rings, the woman could see suspicion as if it were written all over the door frame. He couldn't admit how many times these instincts of hers had saved their lives. As if on cue, she turned and whispered 'something's off here,' just as the door opened and Dogget's phone began to buzz.

"Can I help you?"

* * *

**1 Month Ago**

**Baltimore, Maryland**

**Van de Kamp Residence**

The transition had not been easy. But his parents-well, his adopted parents had died nearly 6 months ago. He missed them. His Aunt Sarah didn't like him. Uncle Peter tried but worked a lot. He wanted to tell him about his dreams; Uncle Peter was the only one who would listen, but he was never home.

William concentrated hard and the pencil slid across the desk. He smiled at the 'powers' he had adapted since he came to Baltimore. He didn't get to be like Spiderman- but maybe Charles Xavier would come for him soon? He grabbed the pencil and drew himself 'Mind-Boy.' He shook his head. Maybe his friend Eileen would have a better name. She read comic books and believed that he was a superhero. She didn't even laugh when he flexed his muscle at her and she didn't call him a freak in her head she he first showed her that he could move things-little things. He hadn't stepped in any radioactive puddles- he would remember, they were bright green and glowy, like in the comic books Aunt Sarah didn't like him reading before bedtime. But, he read somewhere that there were people like him out there.

Before he came to Baltimore, he knew he was adopted- except he didn't actually know what that meant; he still remembered talking with his Mom and Dad about it, back when he was five.

" _Why don't you and Dad ever call me, Willie?" His mother stopped kneading the dough for the apple pie she was making and turned around to look at her son, eyebrow quirking in confusion._

" _Why would we call you that, William?"_

" _The woman with the red hair always calls me 'Willie'" His mother's brows knot, forming a firm line between her eyes just as his father walks in, ruffling his dark red-brown hair._

" _How was school, Billy boy?"_

" _And she told the bald man not to call me 'Bill.' That's her brother's name and the man with the big nose says I'm too cute to be Bill." His Dad looks at his Mom, but his mom seems convinced of something. She wipes her hands on the dishtowel on her shoulder and sits next to him._

" _Who tells you these things, William?"_

" _The woman with the red hair, when I'm dreaming. Why does she call me her baby boy?" His father, finally sensing where the conversation is going pulls out the chair next to William, their smart boy who is already in the first grade even though he should be just starting preschool. They knew this conversation was coming, but they thought they had more time- at least 5 more years._

" _William, remember when I told you that you didn't come from Mommy's belly like the other kids- that you were special, our Miracle." The young boy nods his head, his spelling homework long forgotten. His mom takes his hand in hers and squeezes lightly. "God brought you to Mommy and Me from another Mommy and Daddy."_

" _The woman with the red hair?"_

" _Yes," his father concedes. They didn't know anything about the real mother of their son, but they did know that William was special. If he said he remembered this woman, then they would believe him. They loved him regardless. His mother looks frightened- it's the face she gets when she thinks she's said something wrong. She begins to stammer out her words-_

" _But, William, we love you very, very much and-"William is confused. Of course they love him, but he suddenly feels like he needs to say it._

" _I love you too, Mom." He feels the hair on his neck stand at attention from the puff of air that comes from his father, who was an apparently holding his breath. William doesn't know why but it comes as a relief in the heat of their home. His Mom has tears in her eyes and he doesn't know why but soon he's in her arms and she's rubbing his head and his Dad is holding them both._

_They go out for dinner that night, a huge treat, and ice cream too. He even gets a double scoop. He smiles up at his Dad who ruffles his hair again and calls him a garbage disposal. His mom emerges from the stand with her own Strawberry scoop._

" _Joe, don't call him that," she says, slapping his shoulder lightly. She crouches down to her son and looks him in the eyes. "He looks more like a 'Billy Goat to me." He bops his mom on the nose with his cone and she recoils, laughing as she falls on her bum. His Dad helps his mom up and wipes her nose with a napkin. As he's looking at them he smiles. His Dad really loves his mom. Girls are icky, but his mom is cool. He doesn't want to make her cry again like he did earlier, so he wont tell her what else he remembers from when he was a little, tiny baby._

_The woman with red hair singing to him and rocking him in her arms. Sometimes, when he went to sleep he could look up and see the woman with the red hair and a man with a big nose holding him. He would whisper something too soft for William to hear and she smiled, and then they kissed. He remembered some other faces too, although mostly they were blurry. If he thought reaaallly hard and put on this thinking cap, like they taught him the first day of 1_ _st_ _grade (even though he was about to be a second grader), he could remember a dark room where the redheaded woman was crying and he was scared, but then she held him and the man with the nose came and the woman with brown hair yelled at him to "Get her the fudge out of here." Well, she didn't say fudge, but his mom had always taught him that those words were potty words and poopy language was for the toilet._

_He shook his head from his thoughts when his Dad called him along_

" _C'mon, Billy Goat." He smiled and joined hands with his Dad._

Now he knew what 'adopted' meant. It meant that his real Mommy and Daddy didn't really want him, at least that's what he heard his Aunt Sarah say in her head. 'Freak,' and 'That boy is weird. Something is wrong with him' and 'No wonder he was given up for adoption.' He didn't think his real Mommy hated him- now she was in his dreams a lot and she held him and told him she loved him and she missed him.

He closed his eyes and pictured her for a moment and suddenly the pencil started scribbling on the paper by itself. He thought about her eyes and how she smiled at him in his dreams, and how she had long, long hair now- not like when he was a baby. He opened his eyes and saw that his pencil had drawn her. He smiled at her smiling at him and taped her photo above his bed.

Now it would be just like when he was a baby and she would watch over him in his crib.

* * *

**Present Day**

**Baltimore, Maryland**

**6:35pm**

**Van de Kamp Residence**

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, we're with the FBI, Mrs. Van de Kamp and we're here to talk about William." She opens the door wider after inspecting their badges and lets them into the house. The house has an odd smell. John Dogget shoots Monica a look- something here isn't right. Where are things a little boy would need? Where are the family pictures? Doggett's phone is buzzing again, and again. Something is off in this house. Not wanting to disturb the conversation when Mrs. Van de Kamp offers them a drink he obliges (something he normally never does-earning a shocked look from Monica) and checks his phone. Two messages in big bold letters:

DON'T GO IN THE HOUSE!

LEAVE NOW!

He stands abruptly and shows Monica the phone, just as Mrs. Van de Kamp's shoes are heard clicking across the wood finished floors. Mulder's been one to exaggerate before, but he's learned to trust the man. His fingers are on the weapon under his suit jacket, as are Monica's.

"Mrs. Van de Kamp?"

"We don't have the boy now. But we have our ways," she whispered harshly. Her voice seemed to be coming from all around the house. Doggett drew his gun and pushed Monica behind him, shielding her. "We'll have him and her."

They were backed against the huge-paned windows, white curtains blowing in the wind, beings emerging from crevices in the home. "We could have you too," she spoke. He looked down and saw his son's face staring back at him.

" _Dad, when are we going to play catch? Huh?"_ The boy was tugging on his father's pants

"Luke"

" _You said you'd watch me ride my bike, no training wheels- but you didn't"_

"JOHN," he could hear Monica shouting, and suddenly his gun was ripped from his hands and he was being pushed through the glass pane.

* * *

**One Day Ago**

The 7 year old boy hopped from the bus with his green backpack slung from his shoulder, the LL Bean one that his mother had gotten personally made for him right before she died 7 months ago. Well, 7 months and 4 days to be specific. The backpack had a baseball and basketball that she stitched personally on each side, and the LL Bean letters for WFV. He didn't know why his middle name was 'Fox' but he did know it was because of his birth mother. Who named a kid Fox? That was dumb. His mother seemed to like it though, and they told him the story of when she and his father first met him.

His Mother's name was Louise, and his Dad's name was Joseph. Louise and Joseph Van de Kamp. He didn't know what his name was before he was adopted, and neither did his parents but they knew he was William Fox. He had to admit, William Fox Van de Kamp did have a sort of ring to it. All the girls in his class thought so anyway, although he only really talked to Eileen, who could beat him in basketball and didn't cry when she fell down.?

His real mother was in his dreams often but it wasn't just dreams anymore. Sometimes, he could hear her. A few weeks ago he heard her crying. Apologizing to a Mulder, a man he realized must be the man with the big nose that he saw while building sandcastles sometimes.

He heard her whisper his name a lot.  _William ,William, William._  Sometimes, when he was really sad and his Aunt was being mean he would concentrate really hard and dream of her. He tried not to though, because they always made her cry, and he just wanted to make her happy.

He was suddenly sad. He wanted his mom. His  _real_  mom. His Aunt was mean to him. He could hear her call him a 'freak' all the time, and his Uncle argued with her a lot now. It was his fault. Why was he always messing things up? He didn't want to live with his Aunt anymore. He wanted his mommy, his real mommy. He wanted to hug her and he wanted her to look over his homework. She loved him, and called for him in her dreams. Sometimes when he could see her dreams, he would just watch. The boy never had a face, but she called him William. In her dreams, sometimes she'd be watching him play baseball, or making cookies. Other times she would be snuggling on a couch with him or packing a lunch and putting it in a Spiderman lunch box. Is this what all grownups dreamed of? He stayed away from her scary dreams, with people who weren't people and dying.

He wanted to be with her. She wanted a William and he was William. So, he thought about what he wanted. Really hard.

' _I want to come home'_

His Mom and Dad wouldn't have died in the car accident if he hadn't complained about seeing the movie even though it was really raining. And his Aunt said something was wrong with him- that's why he had to be adopted. What did he do? Finally, he got up the courage to try to ask his mommy, even though he knew she wouldn't be able to really hear him. It would be just like the dreams. He could just watch and hear. But he did it anyway.

' _What did I do wrong, Mommy?'_

Expecting to hear nothing back, he continued to walk from school, suddenly tired. He could feel his mother's anguish. She'd heard him. She heard him. She never heard him when she was awake. Suddenly, he felt bad. He could feel the fatigue in her bones. Had he been keeping her up by trying to talk to her in her dreams? He resigned to leave her alone.

' _You're tired, Mommy'_

He was almost home when Eileen ran behind him, poking him in the back. "Got you" she squealed, "I got you good!" He smiled, generally happy that his friend had surprised him. "Wanna walk with me to the bookstore? They got the new –"

Suddenly, Eileen was pushed to the ground, her and knees now in the mud. "Hey," William spun around, faced with Rodney, the fifth grader who was supposed to be in sixth grade. In Baltimore, William was moved to the 3rd grade, but he was tall for his age. Just not as tall as 6th graders. And Rodney had muscles, while he was lanky. "Going to the bookstore with your girlfriend, Toucan Sam?"

"Don't call me that, Rodney!" William shouted, stepping forward and looking up at the boy. "Give me back Eileen's backpack!" Rodney looked him up and down.

"And what are you going to do if I don't, Fruit Loops?" William charged at the boy, but was stopped by his heavy fist hitting his face. William was on the ground, a metallic taste in his mouth. Rodney rummaged through Eileen's backpack, dumping her drawings into the mud as she tried to stop him. He shoved her-hard, and she hit her head on the ground and started to cry, cradling it.

"Boo hoo," Rodney mocked, finally pulling out her Winx Club wallet that had the money for her new book in it.

William felt the dirt beneath his now scratched palms and made a fist, licking the blood from his bottom lip. He glared at Rodney as Eileen cried. He couldn't do anything. It was just like with his parents. Eileen would die from her bumped head and it would be his fault. He was angry. Angry, Angry, Angry. He hated Rodney, even though his Mom and Dad told him never to hate. They were dead. And he did hate Rodney. He hated the fact that he stuck gum in Eileen's hair, and knocked his books from his hands in school. He hated that everyone in school now called him 'Toucan Sam' or 'Fruit Loops' because of his nose and most of all he hated Rodney for being Rodney. He scrunched his eyes as tears slipped from his eyes, and suddenly Rodney was shouting. Will's eyes popped open and Rodney's clothes were on fire. He stop dropped and rolled to the ground, like they'd taught them in the assembly.

William, wide eyed and terrified, pushed himself to his feet and bolted home.

"William, William come back!" He heard Eileen shout as he ran, his feet heavy on the cement. He had to get help. Had to go home.

He ran home to tell his Aunt Sarah, but stopped at the door.

This wasn't the can of soda moving on the table in his first week with his Aunt. This wasn't the lights flicking back on when she'd turned them off and told him to go to bed, nor was this his motorized car moving where he wanted even after he lost the remote. Rodney was hurt. He could hear the sound of ambulances in the distance. Would his Aunt Sarah think that he set Rodney on fire?

Did he?

William creaked the door open. He didn't normally hear people's thoughts but he normally heard something small from his Aunt. Like "Peas," "Need to buy more eggs." Today was different. As soon as he opened the door and walked in he heard his Aunt's panicked voice in his head.

"RUN! RUN! RUN!"

He looked at the top of the stairs and saw himself staring back at him, smiling. That was him, except it wasn't. His heart was in his throat and he wanted to cry. Instead, his brain screamed

' _Mommy help! Save me!'_

He bolting down the street, suddenly thinking of his mom, his real mom. They were going to hurt him. He was scared. He ran to where he left Eileen to see that neither she nor Rodney was there. He needed to get to Eileen's house. She must be there. He looked back and his Aunt was walking quickly down the street, except she wasn't his Aunt. His Aunt had a different walk, and she never looked at him like  _that._

He finally reached Eileen's house and banged on her door. He banged and cried and banged, finally trying to knob and finding that it was open. He ran in and slammed the door, only to be greeted with a foul smell. He crinkled his nose, but turned and locked the door- all three latches. The person wasn't him and his Aunt- she wasn't his Aunt.

" _They're right outside the door."_ His conscious screamed. He couldn't call the police. He needed to find Eileen. She would believe him. She thought that it was cool that he could move his pencil across the desk without touching it.

His eyes widened and he ran to the upstairs, where music was blaring.

"Eileen," he shouted as he ran into her room, ignoring the smell. She immediately stopped her Brittney Spears song and looked at him shocked. "Eileen, you gotta help me. My-my mom they got her and someone's-they're me but they aren't an"

"Slow down, Will," she said, quirking her head to the side. "What happened?" The boy took a deep breath, about to tell her what happened when he looked over Eileen's clothes. She was wearing the same clothes.

"What happened to your muddy romper?" His mind was screaming. Screaming Screaming. Something was wrong here. This wasn't right. "You were supposed to be easy," she seethed. He spun around at the sound of the downstairs door being kicked open and when he turned back around he was staring at his Mom.

" _Hey there, Billy Goat."_  His fell to the ground just as the thing approached him, morphing into a grey being...an  _alien._  He pack pedaled on his hands to Eileen's closet as fast as he could and held the door shut. He snapped his eyes closed. Terrified. Suddenly, the alien was screaming, a high-pitched wail, but he was too afraid to see why. He sat on the floor of the closet, his eyes shut tight, waiting for the other being to come get him. His hands were raised above his head, grasping the door knob, but he knew that if It could kick in a door, it could pull one from his tiny hands. He was going to die. He would never meet his mom. So he did what he could. He imagined her. He thought of her coming to rescue him.

He heard a baby cry off in the distance and realized his mom was dreaming- about him. Would she hear him if he tried to talk to her this time? She heard him last time, but he made her sick. He didn't even know what to say. He was crying and his thoughts were blending together. He was so afraid, and they got him, and he was scared and why did she give him up? He heard his voice on the baby monitor in her dream, though he couldn't see her

_It was so dark_

He heard her whisper "Momma's got you. I'll protect you," and for a moment he thought she did. But she didn't.

She was crying, sobbing for him and he couldn't get to her. She was screaming for him and he was crying. His eyes popped open, and he was no longer in her dream- he was in the real world where  _aliens_  were going to kill him. He squinted his eyes in the sudden light, ready to die, and he could feel his mom, still in her dream-screaming for him. Suddenly, a blonde haired woman stepped through the threshold and grabbed his arm tightly, pushing a smooth needle into his skin. His eyes widened in horror instantly as the liquid pulsed into his veins. He couldn't feel his mom.

' _I can't feel you, Mommy. Where are you'_ His mind screamed. She didn't answer. He couldn't hear her, or see her dream. "Get off me!" William screamed, thrashing in the woman's arms, kicking his arms and legs. They killed his mom. They must have. She was dead. He couldn't hear her. Fat tears moved down his cheeks as he tried to fight the woman off.

"William. I'm here to help you."

" _Alien! ALIEN! ALIEN!"_  He screamed, his voice hoarse and nose running. She smacked him across the face and he stopped screaming, now looking at her with wide eyes.

"My name is Marita and I'm going to take you somewhere safe"

* * *

**Baltimore**

**Van de Kamp Residence**

**6:50pm**

"Monica?" He questioned, the woman firmly laying on his chest, shards of glass surrounding them. She stumbled to her feet, and grabbed his hand.

"Run."

She was in the car and gunning the gas while he was still sliding in the seat, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. She pulled out her phone and pushed the speed dial, harshly maneuvering the wheel and peeling around corners like bat out of hell.

"We almost fucking died, Mulder," she shouted, Doggett still trying to piece together what had just happened. "I don't know what this was, but it wasn't a super soldier." She nodded and agreed a few more times. "We'll be there in an hour."

They drove, maneuvering on the highway. Her hands were tight and white-knuckled on the steering wheel as she pushed 50, then 60, then 70.

"Mon-"

"You had your gun in your mouth, John." Her eyes were beginning to cloud with tears that she refused to let fall.

"I-I can't remember."

"It was smiling and you were smiling, so please, tell me- what the hell was so damn enjoyable?" Her voice is rough and strained, and she's trying so hard to be angry but her tears are stopping her.

"Luke- he, he was asking me about baseball and his bicycle. That's all I can remember." Her eyes widen and he comes to a realization. "You saved my life, Monica." She nods and keeps driving, refusing to admit that she's crying over him. He reaches out his hand and takes one of hers off the wheel, holding it tightly. He's rubbing small circles over the veins in her hands and finally brings it to his lips, kissing it softly. "I guess that makes us even." She laughs then, and looks at him briefly.

"Not on your life."

* * *

**The Lone Gunman Lair**

**Virginia**

**8:57 pm**

Scully is out of the bed and walking around, claiming recovery when Reyes and Doggett reach the hideout. Scully meets eyes with Reyes, noticing that her eyes are red-rimmed. They will talk about it later.

"Mulder," John Doggett begins, the name coming out as Muldah instead. "These things, they're different- they don't just shapeshift," he says, remembering the time he saw the Scully that wasn't Scully grasping at a man's throat.

"How so?" Scully interjects, he hand resting on Mulder's shoulder as he peers over papers.

"I-

"They make you hallucinate," Monica fills in. "And while they have you in that state, they can control you."

"Super soldiers can't do that."

"They can now." Skinner says, his arms folded over his torso.

"What made you send that text, Mulder?" Monica questions, moving a strip of gauze over the place in her arm that was cut from the window.

"The guys found a code. The death certificate along with the news article were faked."

"You mean, he never died?" Monica chimed in.

"It was a lure. They knew we'd look, and go after the source to find answers. They needed us at that house" Doggett sighs and sits down on one of the stools, taking the beer that Frohike offers him.

"Someone was watching William from afar- all this time. We never would have even known something happened to him without the article planted on Agent- erm Dana" Byers spoke. "We pulled up the stolen license plates from the hospital and through multiple encryptions- we're still waiting now fo"

"Guys!" Langly shouted from his computer, the group crowding him. "This person worked hard to disguise themselves, but I figured out all the riddles and clues they left, it was like a breadcrumb trail. Here's an address. It's nearly 40 minutes from here.

Scully immediately disengaged from the group and did a quick jog to the bed, bracing herself momentarily on the bedpost when black spots swam in her vision. She slid her shoes on just as Mulder whipped around. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going, Mulder."

"Like hell you are. Scully, you can barely stand," he attempted to reason, standing mere inches from her small form, interrupting her just as she was about to speak "Don't you dare tell me you're 'fine' either." He softend and touched her face, running his fingers under her rimmed eyes. "I won't have you hurting yourself." She looked at him, her eyes hard and determined.

"He's our son, and I won't let him go again." She shook from his grasp and walked to grab a gun. Monica tried to speak with her friend, noticing the shake in her hands as she frustrated herself with the lock on the cabinet that held their highly illegal guns.

"Dana, maybe-?" The lock came undone and she grabbed a small firearm, placing it in the small of her back.

"I'm going. With or without your help." Her shoulders lifted and fell as she breathed heavily, her back to the room. When she turned, Mulder already had his firearm in place, his arms folded over his chest and Skinner spoke.

"We didn't come all this way not to help you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Next chapter: Where is William, is he at the address they found? Was someone leaving a breadcrumb trail to lead them to William, or to their own demise?


	4. What Have You Done?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter. Thank you for following my story. Please pay special attention to the changes in pov :) I'm terrible sorry for the late update. I published this on FF and completely forgot to update on here in my hurry to update before I moved.

March 21st, 2008

Baltimore, Maryland

4:30pm

 

Marita Covarrubias could feel them crawling on her skin. They’d found her, after so many years. So many years living in safety, just to ruin it all. It was over.

But she had to protect the boy.

But she- well, it was her time now. She had tried desperately to remain conspicuous as she hacked into medical records, created a fake death certificate- leaving them codes, hoping they would find the clues. She should have been more direct, but at the time she feared the aliens figuring out her plan. She should have taken him when his adoptive parents died, returned him to those who could have protected him. She was selfish. She was a coward. And look where it got her.

She wouldn’t make it.

But he- William still had a chance. The article was too indirect, and she knew they wouldn’t reach the boy in time. She felt familiar slugs slither under her skin, but felt lucky. They hadn’t killed her in the laboratory explosion, where she worked tirelessly on a vaccine. They’d simply infected her. She’d been too concerned with her life at the time to call Mulder. To tell Scully the secrets she knew. Too afraid that she’d be speaking to a shape shifter and not the real thing. The woman she’d sent in her place to deliver the newsprint was long dead. She’d hoped they hadn’t already killed Mulder and Scully.

She had to believe they didn’t.

 She was out of time. She had nothing to lose. She would take him to the safest place she knew. The house that was in her name, belonging to her parents when they still had high hopes for their daughter. Back when they had dreams that she would marry and have children and- things she would never do. The house was old, but it was off the maps. It was safe for the boy. She’d put the address in the article, just in case. They would hack her code.

She hoped that it would be enough for them to find him.

Speeding up to the house she knew belonged to the Van de Kamp’s she slammed the breaks. A boy dashed in front of her car, screaming and running with the full force of his body. He ducked between houses across the street and ran.

William. They had come for him. She looked at herself in the rearview mirror, seeing black quickly move over her eyes. She didn’t have much time.

The magnetite that kept the boy safe for so long was gone and she’d stolen two precious samples from the lab before it was destroyed. She fingered the one that was trusted for years. The sample Jeffrey Spender had injected into the little infant.

It would wear off shortly in his larger body. But it should protect him.

She couldn’t inject him with the other sample, the thick liquid only tested on the infected. She wouldn’t make him into a guinea pig, even if the World depended on it.

It was now or never.

* * *

 

March 23rd, 2008

12:30am

 

Two cars sped down the road, Skinner leading with Monica right behind. The roads winded and twisted as they sped to 60 and 70 and then 80, taking each curve as it came, luckily for their emptiness

“Do you have surveillance” Mulder questioned into his phone, the sound of Langly’s voice echoing back in his ear.

“We have cameras roughly a mile from the location, but nothing past that.”

Mulder sighed and disconnected. He looked at his wide-eyed partner sitting beside him, her hands shaking.

“Mulder, what if it’s t-“

“It’s not. He’s alive,” he affirmed grabbing her hand.

The tires of the range rover squealed to a stop on the side of the road and Mulder looked ahead into the darkness. He couldn’t see anything. The GPS said their destination was nearly a mile ahead. “We should walk from here,” Skinner spoke, turning off the ignition.

* * *

 

March 21st,2008

Baltimore, Maryland

4:40pm

 

_William,” she commanded, pulling him from his daze and down the stairs. The alien was a pile of green goop, it’s skin still aflame. Did she do that? This Marita Co woman?  Did she have powers just like him? He had so many questions, but first he worried. Had his mom died? He couldn’t hear her anymore?_

_“Where’s my mom?”_

_“She was supposed to be here,” the woman mumbled throwing a car door open and pushing him inside._

_“Is she dead?”_

_The woman laughed, a sick cackle escaping her throat. When he looked at her skin he could see her veins pulsing as if something was crawling underneath. “Not even death could keep them from you.” The boy bristled at her indirect answer. Them? His arm hurt and the place she injected him started to swell. What did she give him? And why couldn’t he hear his mom? He fidgeted in his seat and looked over the woman who had apparently saved his life. Was she good?_

_Her blonde hair was pulled in a bun at the base of her skull, but hair was slipping from the clip in small, frazzled tendrils. As William looked closer he noticed other things about her appearance. There was a long run in her pantyhose, something that would make his adopted mom shout with frustration. A small tear in her skirt and a tiny bloodstain on her wrist.  Her nails were broken and chipped and she was missing an earring. He was terrified. Just as she saw him try the lock on the door, she pressed the automatic lock._

_“Listen carefully and don’t interrupt. I don’t have much time”_

_He looked right into the woman’s eye as a black line briefly swirled over the white of her eye. He didn’t interrupt_

* * *

Rural Virginia

March 23rd, 2008

1:23am

**Mulder POV**

 

The gun was cold in her palm as she walked briskly, tried to keep up despite the splitting headache she was facing. Mulder glanced over at her and took her hand in his. She offered a soft smile but his face remained downturned in the darkness. She could never fool him. In the distance they saw an unremarkable house, a house that at one point must have been beautiful. Now it stood with broken shingles and shutters.

Skinner, Monica and John jogged to the side of the house. In the distance there was a barn and a back entrance they couldn’t ignore. Mulder eyed his red-headed partner who was beginning to visibly shake. He looked down at his own hands and saw them shaking as well. They could smell decay from outside.

Climbing the steps he pushed the creaky door open. He could feel her back pressed to his quickly as she covered him. Some things never died. Her heeled boots clicked softly on the wood floors and when he walked into the dining room, leaving her in the den, he immediately began to wretch.

There, paved in blood lay the body of his son. It was William. He had lied to Scully. It was too late. The boy lay splayed across the floorboards of the living room, his blood oozing and seeping into the wood.  His blue eyes were wide and began to develop white milky film. His face was twisted in agony and his shirt torn open, stomach ripped apart. This could have happened to Scully, years ago. He thought he saved her when he removed the tubes and given her the vaccine. Instead, their son paid the price. There was no saving him. He was dead.

A sob escaped his throat and he fell to his knees, taking the limp and heavy body of his child, his one and only son, in his arms. The boy looked up at the ceiling, unseeing, and Mulder pushed a lock of brown hair from his blood-covered brow. The picture was true. He had his nose, but Scully’s mouth. He ran his thumb over the pale, cold lips-looked down at the Spiderman shoes hanging from his mangled feet. He was just a boy. Just a boy.

Just then he heard screaming. In his peripheral he saw gray skin spontaneously combusting. He blinked.His son wasn’t in his arms. There was no blood, no carnage on the floor.

_Hallucination_

The alien being’s blood spread across the floor like acid as it dissolved, it’s thick, black blood oozing and tearing through the durable hardwood floor. Flames danced on the floor before extinguishing themselves.

“Mulder!” Skinner shouted. The two military men ran into the house, drawn by the billowing smoke and lifted Mulder from the floor, dizzy and dazed. The gun that was pressed to his face by his own hand suddenly dropped to the floor with a clang.

“We gotta go,” Dogget commanded, seeing the lights that now shined through the windows. Cars blended together through the dirty glass of the windows.

 It was just like before. _They_ had come

“Where’s Dana?”  Monica said with a cough, covering her face with her arm to cut out the smell of the rotting alien corpse. These were definitely not super soldiers.

Scully. Scully. Where was Scully?

_Had they trapped her in one of these hallucinations as well?_

Just then the front door of the house flew open and he was greeted by his son. Alive.

“They’ve got her,” he spoke, running up the steps

* * *

 

Rural Virginia

March 23rd, 2008

1:10am

 

The magnetite wore off, just as Marita said it would. He wasn’t safe.

_“When I tell you to run, you run. If I come looking for you, it isn’t me. Run.”_

He could feel the aliens; feel these things that weren’t human. They were coming.  He remembers bolting from the car when the woman who he knew once was very pretty lady swerved off the deserted road, her eyes swimming in blackness. He shakes his head of the memory, of the tears that are springing in his eyes. Had that happened to his mom too? Was the kind woman with long red hair who called him ‘Willie’ now gone too? Was he next?

“ _They want to use you.”_

He was dumb. An idiot. He fell asleep last night, so exhausted from the hours of running through the forest. Now his arm no longer ached and he could hear them coming. But he couldn’t hear his mom.Marita told him the shot would stop his ‘abilities.’ He didn’t want these superpowers anymore. He didn’t care about being Spiderman or Superman or _Spookyman_ , the name he’d created for himself. The kids at school called him spooky.

 He was afraid.

 _“There’s a house with broken shutters. This is your last resort,”_ she’d said, pushing a syringe with thick, grey substance inside it into his palm.

 _“What will it do?”_ he questioned as he watched the woman’s hands clench on the steering wheel, attempting to remain in control. They were still nearly 25 miles from the location. She wouldn’t make it. Her heeled foot pressed heavier on the ignition, pushing the tiny car as fast as it could go.

_“It’ll eliminate all the work but-but it may be your only chance”_

His lungs ached as he jogged through the forest. His Spiderman watch said that it was nearly 1am which meant that he’d been out here for a full day. Did this house ever exist? He would never find it. He was going to die. He wanted to cry.

_“Find Mulder and Scully.”_

He felt a deep pressure in his head, as he jumped over branches.  His long legs carried him over branches and through groups of trees until he reached a break in the forest, a road. Two cars were parked on the side and he ran towards the house in the distance. When he finally saw the broken shutters, just as Marita described, his head swam.

 _“William, my son”_ he heard in his head. _He could hear again_. It wasn’t his mom. It was a deep, pained voice and he stumbled to his knees. The man was wracked with guilt and William could see himself, lying on the floor, being held in strong arms. He saw himself through his eyes. Mulder. His father.  He could sense something else in the man’s head, though, and his eyes widened in horror when he realized what it was. An alien. They were trying to get his Dad. _No. No. No. No. No_. They couldn’t have him! He closed his eyes and squeezed tightly. _Die. Die. Die_ , he screamed in his head. He hoped they would catch fire like Rodney.

His Dad was inside. Elation swarmed across his body but was suddenly destroyed when he heard another voice in his head.

 _“It hurts, oh god, it hurts”_ his mother’s cries of agony ached in his head _“Leave him alone, please.”_

He ran up the stairs to the house, suddenly illuminated by bright lights. Turning around he saw cars. So many cars.

“ _The prophet has returned.”_

He needed to save his mom. He threw open the door to the house.

“They’ve got her,”

His little feet ran up the stairs and he felt the footfalls of his father behind him. The two men and women he knew from his dreams pushed the door closed, shutting out the bright light and creatures.

“Hurry, Muldah!,” he heard the spiky haired one shout

* * *

 

Rural Virginia

March 23rd, 2008

**1:23am**

**Scully POV**

 

Mulder finished looking over the kitchen and living room, looking over to his partner who was picking up empty photo frames and old things that once were.  “C’mon, Scully” he said softly, gesturing with his head to the stairs. His feet creaked on each steps, her own following hesitantly, hoping that neither of them fell through the floor. She didn’t feel right about this; her stomach felt sour. She briefly sees a flitter in her eyes and a buzz in her ears. She swears that Mulder was just sitting on the floor.  She stumbles up the step, her head pounding and continues. It wasn’t Mulder. Her mind was playing tricks on her. Mulder was creaking up the steps in front of her.

Three open doors were at the top of the hall. She glided into the first one on the left and assumed that Mulder would take the right. Her heeled shoes reverberated throughout the silent house as she walked , gun drawn, into a room that at one point was a master bedroom. Large, heavy drapes hung from the windows, dingy and yellow from old age. Books scattered the floors and dust accumulated like a new finish on the furniture. The sounds of him entering the room were drowned out by her revelation. A closet door. A closet, like in her dream. Ripping open the door her heart sank and she let out a sob. It had been too much to hope for. Mildew clothing that went out with President Bush Senior hung on hangers with rotted holes in the fabric. Boxes littered on the floor. No William. Her hand tightened around the door knob. Tighter. Tigher, until her knuckles were white and it pained her to keep holding on. It was a trick. William wasn’t here. She had been wrong. He was gone.

She heard the bedroom door click shut and she turned just to see his fingers turn the lock.

“Mulder?” she questioned, her eyebrow rising to her hairline. Her palms became sweaty and the gun suddenly felt heavy in her hand. This wasn’t Mulder. She should have known. How long had he been gone? They got him.

 _“Where is he?”_ The being spoke. She felt no breath. It didn’t breathe. The eyes staring at her with disgust didn’t belong to Mulder, she thought. It was a hallucination.

“I don’t know,” she responded.

 _“You can hear him. And we can hear you.”_ Just a dream. Not real.

 _“It’s not a dream,”_ ‘Mulder’ spoke, pulling a gun from his waist holster. His face twisted in concern and his eyes looked confused. She saw the gun raise and she raised her own

“Scully?” he asked, confusion etched on his face. As if to ask what was going on.

And she blinked

And she heard a shot. And she screamed. And Mulder’s brains were on her face, and on her clothes and he fell to the ground. One of her worst nightmares come to life. His head was a mangled mess of -

_Hallucination_

Her rational brain worked fast. His brains couldn’t be on her. He was facing her. She felt a buzzing in her head, a sharp pain there and at the base of her neck. It hurt. Pain seared in her temples and she knew that William hadn’t caused the seizures.

_It was them._

They were breaking into her brain to find him. Her gun was no longer in her palm. She had nothing to defend herself

She felt a hand tug at her pants and looked down to see Emily staring back at her, large blue eyes and eager dimpled smile.

“C’mon, Mommy” the little girl spoke and she followed. Scully’s eyes widened in her sockets and she took her eyes off the girl. “Tell me where my _brover_ is” and tears sprung in her eyes. It’s a life. Emily is dead. Emily is dead. And her hands reached out for the bedpost, trying to steady herself-to get away. She felt dizzy and it hurt when she breathed. The girl distorted and her skin began to melt. Her voice became deep _“He is the destroyer_.” She could feel her heart pulsing in her head- felt them digging.

 _“The mother bore the prophet,”_ voices sprung from the walls as she stumbled, falling to the floor. The room was illuminated. It was just like before. They had come for him. “ _The mother will lead us to the prophet again_.” They knew where to find him because she thought it.

They were going to use him. Her baby. He would never be safe.

 _You can hear him,_ the creature had said. She led them here, the coordinates echoing in her head. It was her. Her. Her. Her.

She could barely lift her head as she felt them shifting, sorting through her thoughts trying to find anything of use. She suddenly saw William turning a mobile. Unable to stand, she crawled across the floor, their voices echoing off the walls and her skull.

She reached out to the broken shards of the mirror, picking up the largest one with long, agile fingers. God would never forgive her. The ultimate sin. But she could never forgive herself for ruining her son’s chance at life. She needed to protect him. If he was still alive, she would always endanger him.This was the best way. If she felt him in her head again, heard him in her thoughts, they could find him. They couldn’t if she no longer had thoughts.

_He’ll never be safe when they can find him in your thoughts._

_“The prophet has returned,”_ she heard the voices echo. 

The door flew open. The aliens screamed and howled as they caught aflame just as Dana Scully slid the glass across her carotid

* * *

 

Rural Virginia

March 23rd, 2008

1:40am

 

 “Mom!” The boy screamed in horror, running over to the woman who now spewed precious life-blood onto the floor, a slow pool accumulating. She lay flat on the floor.

“Wil-Wil” she gasped, her eyes fearful and wide .Her boy. Her son. He was alive and safe with Mulder. He’d called her mom. She was a mother. Finally. If even for a moment again. She reached her blood covered hand up to his face, touches his soft skin with shaking fingers.

“Scully,” Mulder was by her in a second, his breath hitched. His hand pressed tightly against her neck as blood spurted between his fingers. “Dana,” Mulder moaned. The aliens once surrounding her were heaps of oozing thick blackness on the floor, their blood set fire like gasoline before doused by some unforeseen force.

He was reading her thoughts, and she smiled, remembering her fondest memory. Her last thought before she died. Holding her son after his birth, Mulder kissing her on the lips. Baby soft skin and fine hair and big blue eyes.

 Her son was crying as he kneeled next to her and tears sprung in her eyes. He son wouldn’t be safe if she lived. They could read her thoughts. Find him through the connection

“I’ll save you,” William spoke through tears as he pressed his hands over Mulder’s bloody ones

“N-no”

Her eyes snapped shut as pain erupted across her whole body. 

* * *

 

Mulder held his hands in place and let out a muted sob as he felt Scully’s skin ignite. A blue glow erupted over her as she twisted and jolted in pain, before becoming completely limp. His son’s eyes were deeply closed in concentration, tears slipping onto his cheeks as he felt his mother’s pain. But he had to save her. He needed her.

Suddenly the oozing stopped and Mulder removed his bloodstained hands. Her neck was healed, despite a thick jagged line seared across the skin.

“She told me not to save her, but all I saw in her mind was all of the ways I could. So I did,” he whispered solemnly. Her breaths were shallow but present. He didn’t know if she would live. If she would wake up and hug him. Or tell him she loved him. Or sing him the bullfrog song.

He heard the woman shout from downstairs

“We can’t hold them off for much longer.”

“They think I’m the prophet,” the boy pressed his palms to his eyes, “I don’t wanna be a Superhero,” his sobs echoed “I just want my mom.”

Mulder grabbed his son and pulled him to his chest, his own tears falling. He rubbed his bloodied hands over the boy’s hair as his small body wracked with sobs. He felt his son stir and realize he had something in his hand

“You have to” William whispered, pushing the syringe into his hand.

 _Magnetite, Magnetite, Magnetite._ Echoed in his head. _It kept him safe before._

He didn’t tell his father that it was controversial. That Marita had told him he could die; that it was never tested on people. His Dad didn’t need to know that. The aliens wouldn’t leave if they thought he was the prophet. His parents would die. Everyone would die. He didn’t want these powers. He wanted the aliens to go away.

 _“Magnetite makes aliens go away- but this is permanent,”_ her voice reverberates

He wouldn’t be able to hear his mom anymore. But she was with him now, he hoped. 

Mulder slid the syringe into his son’s arm, watching as the thick substance bubbled under his skin. He cried out in pain, and Mulder held him tightly, comforting his son.

 William stumbled to his feet. He had to show them he wasn’t what they thought he was. That’s what echoed in his mother’s head before he lost all contact. Before the magnetite burned in his head and in his veins.

He couldn’t hear anyone. It was just like before, when he lived with his old Mom and Dad near the mountains. His head didn’t tingle. He stood on wobbled legs for a moment, lightheaded, as his father lifted his Mother’s limp body. Her long red hair tumbled over his strong arms and he cradled her close to his chest as if he was anchoring her to the Earth. He reached up and grabbed his father’s arm, steadying himself.

He was terrified.

He wasn’t a hero

He was William

What if what his mom said wasn’t true? What if he was still what they thought he was? What if they took him? What if his mom never woke up?

He reached the bottom of the stairs, the door braced by Skinner, couches pressed up to the windows by Dogget and Reyes. William let go of his father’s arm.

He touched Skinner’s arm lightly and the man stepped back. His hand felt the knob. This was it. Opening the door he saw countless human faces staring back at him, their bodies still. His eyes widened when he saw a particular face.

She looked pretty; elegant. Her clothes weren’t mussed, as they’d been before, and her hair was pinned tightly. This is what she must have looked like before. But he no longer saw the blue of her eyes, eyes which were now completely black.

The body of what had once been Marita Covarubias approached him, her steps calculated and poised.  She was one of them now.

 _“It isn’t me. Run”_ Her words repeat in his head. But he couldn’t. Not now. They would just look for him again. Come after his mom again. They had to see

He wasn’t what they thought he was. Not anymore. Not ever again.

Her now healed nails, shining with nude polish slid under his chin as he shook. She lifted his head, and he looked into the pits she had for eyes, unknowing if she was staring back at him.

She dropped her hand and turned from him, joining the bodies of humans that once were in their march.

 _“The prophet is false. There will be another. He will rise again”_ voices spoke in unison. The cars roared with life once again and drove from the house.

He wishes he could have saved her, as she gets into the Honda and backs away, the gravel crunching under her car tires. Her black eyes stare unfocused and he hears her last words echo in his head.

_“You’re only a boy. Do not fight the fight of dead men.”_

He hears his mother whisper “Wil-liam” and his ears perk

Mulder releases her from his arms, settling her on her feet.  She stumbles on shaky legs, as his father’s arms brace her. Protect her. William stands stock still, finally staring at his mother, at the woman who had his eyes and lips. A small smile graces her lips, reaches her exhausted eyes. She drops to her knees in front of him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

“Willie, my baby,” she whispers, a sob escaping her throat. He feels his father’s arms around them both. Feels his mother’s tears. Feels his own. He feels safe. She loves him. They love him. “we’ve missed you so much,” she whispers. “My William”

He wasn’t what they thought he was. He was no superhero. He was no prophet. He was William. Willie. Her baby.

He just wanted his mom. He just wanted his family. And they wanted him.

The fights of dead men could wait.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please send any ff writing prompts to my inbox :) I really appreciate all the support from everyone who reads my stories. I hope ya'll enjoyed this piece!

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know where I'm going with this story, but it may take me some time to update. Please leave a review/kudos to tell me if you liked it so I know to continue! :)
> 
> Mulder and Scully Angst next chapter. Plus, what happened to William? Was that their son? Who put the newspaper in her pocket and what's going on in Scully's head?


End file.
